


an established arrangement

by randomhorse



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, M/M, PTSD, Sadness, secret broom closet blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomhorse/pseuds/randomhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousa and Thompson know that on certain fronts, they are fighting a losing battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an established arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatRoofDance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatRoofDance/gifts).



Calling it Love would be a joke, and not a funny one. Regardless, Daniel Sousa catches himself smirking, or laughing even, when he’s been alone with his thoughts for too long and looks at the affair from a distance. He’s got a bitter sort of humor like that. It’s how he makes it work with half a leg and constant pain and a lover who’s also the biggest jerk he’s ever met.

Calling it Lust would be equally mistaken, would suggest something animal about it, and that’s not the case. On the contrary, their encounters are rare, and carefully planned, meticulously choreographed, as short and silent as they can be, trying their damnedest to be non-existent when in truth they are, and obviously, desperately so.

 

The good part about it –

there are good parts about it, apart from the most obvious, which is why they are doing this in the first place –

the good part about it, Sousa tells himself, is that they know who they are. This is not a road to self-discovery. There’s no self-discovery left to be had after years in the mud of Russia, or, in Thompson’s case, Japan.

 

Like every man he knows, Sousa has learned that all that’s left after the war is to leave behind habits picked up at the front: the struggle to return to something that was before, and in some cases something that never was, that’s only vaguely remembered. Both Sousa and Thompson know that on certain fronts, they are fighting a losing battle.

And what’s to be done about it? You don’t deny a dying man a last request and you don’t deny a pained soul a moment of relief, of blissful white-out.

 

Sousa is past denying himself things, except when it comes to Agent Carter, when it comes to being decent and courting properly and respecting grief. With Thompson he doesn’t have to deny himself anything because he doesn’t have to respect. There’s no decency involved, because he knows that every ugly painful thought that passed Thompson’s mind after the war has poisoned his, too.

 

There’s another reality, of course. One in which the sun is up and neither of them is working late shifts, one in which this isn’t happening and he’s still in one piece, apart from the leg. A reality in which there’s a good future for him to be had.

Daniel Sousa has been in love with Peggy Carter for a long time. It took some time for him to acknowledge it, but now he knows, and he’s almost sure she does, too. She’s an observant woman and she catches him lost in thought while looking at her far more often than he catches himself. Agent Thompson knows it, too. Jack, the asshole. And yet it doesn’t change a thing in their established arrangement.

 

Agent Sousa Blows Agent Thompson In The S.S.R. Broom Closet, that would be a headline if there ever was one. Bit tacky, almost too far-fetched, some would think. Peggy Carter would smile knowingly, probably. Hell, she’s been in the field. She knows how men become – flexible.

Sousa knows Jack’s had men before, during the war, even before, maybe. They’ve never talked about it (there’s never much opportunity to talk, and outside the broom closet they don’t get along) but Sousa can tell from the way he moves, self-assured, confident, and from the way he receives. Sousa’s had men before, during the war and after. He’s always known how he felt about them. The only thing the war changed is that the battlefield, the cold, the close quarters, rid him of the shame he felt before.

 

It’s a Good Thing happening in his life, Daniel Sousa tells himself. It’s a good thing that makes him feel wanted and in some ways appreciated. In _some_ ways, for talents he’d better not be receiving praise for in public. It’s a Good Thing because it reminds him of the few good things he had during the war, even better then, juxtaposed by Bad Things so bad they keep him awake at night, even now.

Not that Jack Thompson would ever go out of his way to praise him, or even thank him. But Sousa knows enough to see that he’s good and Thompson always comes back. Jack Thompson, the ladies’ man, with a girlfriend in every part of New York City and a wife besides, comes back to the S.S.R. broom closet and to Daniel Sousa, the cripple. There’s a certain amount of appreciation to be found there, if he tries. And it’s not like he’s greedy, but he _tries_.

 

And maybe this would be worse if there was Love or Lust involved, or any of those great capitalized words providing empty space for a whole lot of meanings. Sousa is almost sure it would.

 _And this is alright, isn’t it?_ , he thinks, when Thompson zips up after he’s finished, and helps Sousa to his feet. _This is not a bad thing_.

After all, when he’s done with him, Thompson always stops to jerk him off, while Sousa leans against the wall and his sweaty hand slips on the handle of his crutch. 

**Author's Note:**

> fionna alias catroofdance is entirely to blame for this and for the shockingly sudden shippy feelings i had to get out of my system.
> 
> there's now a sequel of sorts: [part of the cure](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5832922)


End file.
